Tuscan hilltop villages with honey coloured ancient buildings, old people dressed in black sitting outside in a summer morning knitting and church bells ringing. Sitting in a cafe watching life go by such moments are etched in my minds eye. Memories sweet like wine, quiet thoughts of Italy.
Michael Cochrane ©
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Simplicity and clarity of expression is the hallmark of your poetry dear poet. Keep posting.